


My Body is a Canvas (Multiple Prompts)

by bluest_skies



Series: Daily Destiel Drabble - Destiel Smut Brigade [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Making Out In The Shower, Masturbation, Painter!Dean, body painting, dean and cas are neighbors, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluest_skies/pseuds/bluest_skies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After watching his new neighbor from behind the blinds in his living room, a piece of misdelivered mail finally gives Castiel the opportunity to meet him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will have another part because they're supposed to be drabbles and I clearly have no idea what that means *facepalm*
> 
> This is a prompt fill for the daily destiel drabble at destielsmutbrigade.tumblr.com
> 
> Ch. 1 prompt: paint

Castiel ran his finger along the edge of the envelope, the paper thick and heavy, beautiful cursive script proclaiming it be delivered to one Dean Winchester, his next door neighbor. It looked important, maybe an invitation of some kind. He turned it over in his hands as he walked through the living room to the double french doors on the back wall. They opened up to a small deck that overlooked his back yard and gave him a clear view of the aforementioned neighbor.

Using the edge of his finger to pull back the vertical blind slightly, he peeked out. Dean had moved in about six months ago and had since converted the back of his house into an enormous studio, the door of which opened up a deck. He currently had the large glass door folded open, curtains fluttering in the light breeze. Castiel noted the music currently thumping out through the open doors, Led Zeppelin, which meant he was about to start a new project. Bob Seger always signaled that he was almost done.

Castiel watched as Dean crouched down with a large, flat stick in his hand, stirring a large bucket of paint. His jeans were faded and looked well worn, bare knees poking out from ragged holes. His shirt didn’t look much better streaked with paint and the hem torn in places. Dean scraped the edges of the stick across the lip of the bucket, tossed it in a large metal trash can, and walked to the other side of the room, grabbing a plastic bin. He tossed in various sized brushes and rags, then sat it down beside the paint bucket. After he had everything set up, Dean kicked off his shoes and socks, tossing them into a corner.

Castiel let the blinds fall back into place. He felt this sliver of guilt curl through his belly, like he was intruding on something intimate and private, even though the doors were wide open for anyone to see and Dean was just mixing paint, not stripping down naked. But even so...

He ran his fingers over the envelope and glanced back at the doors. He should take this to Dean before he got started. The volume of the music increasing decided for him, and he hurried out the front door, jogging over to access the gate to Dean’s back yard. Castiel approached the open doors, tapping on the frame.

“Excuse me, hi,” Castiel called out in futility, the music so was so loud and Dean’s back was to him and so he waited patiently for the music to end, appreciating the opportunity to watch Dean work this closely.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he called out when the song faded and cringed when Dean startled badly, paint slopping all over the fresh canvas. “Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

“Dude, you gave me a heart attack!” Dean bent over with his hands on his knees and he laughed, straightening to place a hand on his chest. Nobody’s Fault But Mine came blaring out through the speakers then and Dean jogged over to switch it off. “Holy shit. Okay. I’m okay.” After a few deep breaths he said, “Sorry about the music. Is it too loud?”

“Oh. No, it’s fine, I just...” Castiel held up the envelope. “This was delivered to me by mistake and it looked important.”

Dean took it from his hand and ripped it open, eyes lighting up as he read the slip of paper he found inside. He looked up at Castiel, grinning broadly. “This is great news. It calls for a celebration. Stay right here, I’m gonna grab a couple of beers.”

“Oh I don’t want to interrupt,” Castiel said as Dean went through a door that opened up to a hallway.

“Nonsense!” Dean called back to him, trotting back through the door a few moments later with two beer bottles. “The bearer of good news has to participate in the celebration. It’s a rule,” Dean said with a wink, twisting off the cap and handing it over.

Dean walked outside, sitting on the edge of the deck, feet swinging, and Castiel joined him, so close he would feel the warm line of Dean’s body next to him and he cleared his throat, moving away slightly. Dean tipped his bottle in Castiel’s direction and he followed suit, the glass clinking together as Dean said, “To good news.”

“To good news,” Castiel echoed him, taking a sip.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to come over and introduce myself, but with the renovations and...well I just kept putting it off. And really, it’s kind of unfair now that you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Oh, um. It’s Castiel.”

“Castiel?”

“Novak.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I like it. It’s interesting. Different.” Dean bumped him with his shoulder.

Castiel’s hands shook slightly and he tipped his bottle back, taking a long pull. “I probably shouldn’t keep you,” he said a few moments later. “You’re starting a new project and everything.”

“How did you know that?”

Shit. “I--I just notice that you play Led Zeppelin when you start something new. I’ve seen you painting sometimes...when I’m outside working in the yard,” he added when Dean lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Oh right. Yeah I’ve seen you out there.” They were quiet a few moments. “I painted a picture of your yard actually.”

Castiel lowered his bottle mid-gulp. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “You wanna see it?” He got up before Castiel could even answer and went back inside, heading over to a stack of canvases leaning against the wall. He flipped through, finally pulling one out and brought it over, sitting back down.

Setting aside his beer, Castiel took the canvas in hand. “Wow, I--.” He looked up and over to his yard, spotting the exact location copied in paint. It was in the back corner, where a small gazebo sat, bright sprays of different flowers and plants all around the outside. “This is really beautiful, Dean.”

“Thanks. You should have it.”

“What? No, I couldn’t take this.”

“Sure you could. It’s your yard. You should have it.”

“Thank you,” Castiel breathed out, fingers trailing along rough textured edges.

“Sure thing. It’s the least I could do for you bringing me this,” Dean said, waving the envelope.

“It was no problem,” Castiel replied, eyes still on the painting, picking out all the small details. “I should probably go,” he said a few moments later. “Let you get to work.”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks again, man.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. And thank you for the painting.”

~*~

“It’s not as complicated as you may think,” Dean’s voice echoed.

Castiel was stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed on his crossed arms. He was naked, shadows from the flickering candles dancing along his skin.

“To use your body as a canvas,” Dean’s voice continued.

There was a comforting weight, warm and solid...Dean straddling his thighs, Castiel thought.

“A canvas as perfect as no other,” Dean’s voice murmured just before something wet and cool slid across Castiel's shoulders in sweeping motions. His cock felt thick and heavy as it continued on, the brush moving down along either side of his spine, each stroke like a touch to his shaft, pushing him higher and higher until he cried out, spilling out onto the sheets, each spurt punctuated with a gasp. And as he spiraled down, he saw the wings painted upon his back, fiery, swirling colors covering him completely.

Castiel jerked awake, panting, pajama pants sticky and he pushed them off, kicking them onto the floor. He turned his head to the right, where the painting Dean had given him earlier hung on the wall. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stumbled to the bathroom to clean himself up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is a prompt fill for the Daily Destiel Drabble at destielsmutbrigade.tumblr.com
> 
> Prompt: Deja vu

“Howdy neighbor!”

Castiel looked up to see Dean leaning over the fence that separated their properties and he stood, brushing the dirt from his hands as he walked over.

“Hi.”

“Are you picking or weeding?” Dean asked him.

“Oh,” Castiel looked over his shoulder. “Picking,” he answered, looking back to Dean. “It’s an herb garden.”

“Oh, nice. So I should expect some pretty epic cooking smells soon then,” he teased.

“Well, I was going to make spaghetti. Do you—would you like to come over and eat?” Castiel could feel his cheeks flood with warmth and he prayed that Dean wouldn’t notice or would think he was just flushed from working outside.

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great. Oh hey, I’ll bring a bottle of wine. And I’ll just wait and ask you then what I was going to ask you now.”

“Wait!” Castiel called out as Dean turned to leave. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Ah, Cas,” Dean replied dramatically as he walked backwards away from the fence. “Enjoy the anticipation. Pour it out of your soul and into your food!” And then he turned, jogging up the deck steps and into his house.

~*~

Castiel was just doing a final taste on the sauce when his doorbell rang and he opened the front door to find Dean standing on his porch, holding up a bottle of wine with a grin.

“Hi, I have booze,” he said in greeting and Castiel chuckled, ushering him inside.

“Well, I feel I should inform you that since you’re so early, you have to help.”

“Oh god.” Dean shed his jacket, draping it over a chair and followed Castiel into the kitchen. “If you want to burn your house down there are easier ways to go about it, man.”

Castiel grimaced. “Well how about you just set the table?”

“That I can do. Although…would you mind if we were a bit less formal?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Just worry about the food and I’ll handle the rest. Where are your plates?

~*~

They ended up sitting next to each other in the living room on pillows that dean had placed around Castiels coffee table, backs against the couch. They served themselves from a giant bowl of pasta set on the tabletop, drinking wine out of coffee cups.

"Man, I am stuffed," Dean groaned, leaning back against the couch. "I can tell you put all that anticipation in your food cause it was fantastic."

"Shut up," Castiel muttered into his coffee cup, draining the last bit. "I'll have you know, I am anticipating nothing, thank you."

"Mmhm. Well, then I'll just save those questions for later then." Dean filled his cup again, the bottle now half gone, and turned to Castiel. "So let's have it. Tell me all about you. Your dirty secrets, embarrassing moments. Give it to me."

"Oh no." Castiel shook his head. "I take all that to my grave."

Dean smacked him on the arm. "Tch, look at you taking all my fun away."

"I'm sure you'll find another source of fun," Castiel said, tipping his cup in Deans direction.

"True. And I did want to ask you something. Two somethings to be exact."

"Why am I suddenly filled with terror?"

"Shh. Just hear me out." Dean sat up straighter, clearing his throat. "So the envelope you brought me the other day."

"The envelope of good news?"

"Yes. It was an invitation to have some of my pieces in a gallery for an upcoming show."

"Oh that's great, Dean, congratulations!"

"Thanks. So, I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

"Of course, yes. I'd be honored to."

"Awesome. Great. Okay, well this next part...don't feel obligated cause I'll totally understand if you aren't comfortable with it and I still want you come to the show regardless."

Castiel stared at him blankly. "Okay?"

Dean rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Well, I'm going to do an installation piece and I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Oh. Well I'm not very good at art."

"No no, you don't have to _do_ any art. You'll kind of... _be_ the art. Well part of it anyway."

"I'm...confused."

"I'm going to be doing a large canvas and I would be painting you as part of it."

"O--oh."

"Its not that complicated, using a body as a canvas."

Deans lips were still moving but Castiel’s ears were full of the pounding of his heart along with a high pitched ringing noise, skin crawling with the sense of deja vu, and he had no idea what was being said. But he recalled his dream from the other night and he found himself saying "Yes. Yes I'll do it."

The way Deans face lit up at his response was worth doing anything.

~*~

"You cannot be serious,” Castiel said a few days later, standing in Dean’s studio.

"What?"

"Dean, I can't wear this. Its like a washcloth and some string!" Castiel shook the tiniest pair of underwear he'd ever seen in Dean’s direction. "I might as well be naked!"

"Well, you can pose naked if you want."

"I'm not going to pose naked!" Castiel sputtered.

"Cas, look. The important bits will be covered. So they'll see your ass cheeks. So what? They're going to be painted." Dean gave him a cheeky grin. "And its a nice ass, so show it off."

Castiel couldn't figure out a reply to that so he turned on shaky legs and walked to the bathroom to change.

~*~

They were doing a practice run so Dean could firmly have in mind what he was going to do on the night. Castiel had changed into the underwear, and after fretting for several minutes, decided he just needed to suck it up. Dean would be concentrating on his work anyway, not on Castiel’s ass (or any other parts). But he didn't miss the way Dean watched him when he walked into the room, small paint brush firmly clenched between his teeth.

Dean had Castiel face away from him, and would be painting the entire back side of his body. He made a few marks here and there, doing a rough sketch along his arms, legs, and torso, then had him lie down on a soft pallet of blankets he had put down while Castiel had been changing.

They were quiet for a while, the only sounds coming from the stereo playing softly and the rustling sounds of Dean's knees sliding along the floor when he moved to work on another area.

"You okay, Cas? Need a break?" Dean asked him after a couple of hours.

"I'm okay," he muttered, half-asleep. "Do you?"

"Nah, I'm good right now."

Castiel tensed as he felt Dean lean in closely, warm breath fanning out across his back and when he felt Dean pull back finally, paint brush splashing in a jar of muddy colored water, he muttered, "I had a dream about this."

"What's that?" Dean asked absentmindedly, twisting to dip the brush in some paint.

"I had a dream about you painting on me." He felt the brush still for a few moments, then start to move again.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmm.”

Dean worked for a few minutes. “So what happened? What was I painting?”

Castiel felt tingly everywhere, not even sure why he’d mentioned the dream at all, except he felt relaxed and comfortable and it just felt like a natural thing to tell him. “You were painting giant colorful wings on my back.” He paused for a moment, then added, “It was very erotic actually.”

He felt Dean shift closer and he cracked open one eye. Dean was peering down at him, eyes slightly surprised looking. “Cas, did you have a _sex_ dream about me?”

“Not as such.”

Dean leaned back, tossing his paint brush in the water jar, then sat cross-legged on the floor directly in front of Castiel’s face. “Not as such? What does that even mean, man?”

Castiel smashed his face into the blankets and groaned. “We didn’t do anything but...”

“Yeah, I get it. Heh, I guess you’re not taking _all_ your secrets to your grave, huh?”

“Shut up,” Cas groused, swatting at Dean’s leg. He shifted up on one elbow. “It’s weird though, what you said the other day about this all not being as complicated as it sounded, to be a canvas...”

“Yeah?”

“You said pretty much the exact same thing in the dream. Isn’t that weird?”

Dean stared at him a few moments. “Cas, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“O-Oh okay.”

Dean had a hand on his shoulder and was pushing him onto his back and his first thought was that Dean’s work was going to be ruined, but then he was there, warm against Castiel’s naked chest, paint streaked hand cupping the side of his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly pleased with this section, but it was either post it or delete it and I didn't want to do that. So, I hope you enjoy anyway.
> 
> This chapter picks up directly after the previous one.

Castiel left that night in a borrowed pair of sweatpants, pretty certain his bare feet never touched the ground as he walked home. Still smiling and stomach fluttering wildly as he walked through the front door, he dumped his clothes and shoes on the floor and went straight for the bathroom.

His reflection looked wild, hair sticking up in all directions from Dean's fingers, lips pink and kiss-bruised. His eyes didn’t look like his own, the blue barely discernable, lust blown as they still were. He had been waiting for Dean to go farther, for his paint splattered fingers to slide lower, but they never did. When they both finally broke away, Dean had told him in a shaky voice that it was getting late and he should let Castiel get cleaned up.

Castiel peeled off the sweatpants and underwear and turned his back to the mirror, twisting his head around as far as he could. All the paint had been smeared, making it impossible for him to tell what Dean had been painting, and he was somewhat disappointed.

Sighing, he turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and stepped under the spray.

~*~

Castiel was sitting on the edge of his bed, towel around his waist when his phone beeped.

**_Dean: get all the paint off?_ **

Castiel chuckled. _**I d**_ _ **on't know actually. Maybe?**_

_**Dean: want me to come check?** _

Castiel's heart thumped crazily in his chest as he stared down at what was probably a completely innocent text message. Licking his lips, he typed out with shaky fingers 'yes' and hit send. His right knee was bouncing up and down as he waited for a reply, startling when he heard a knock at the door. Clutching the towel around his waist with one hand, he padded down the hall and through the living room, grasping the door knob with numb fingers and pulling the door open.

"Hi," Dean said, raising his hand briefly. "I see you dressed for the occasion."

Castiel looked down. "Um, sorry."

"Oh don't be sorry," Dean said as he stepped inside, grinning. "I'm not. But yeah I can see you totally missed some places. Shall we?"

"Yeah, sure. This way." Castiel turned, leading Dean back down the hallway to his bathroom.

Once there, Dean turned on the shower and whipped his shirt over his head. "Come on. I'll help you get the rest."

Castiel stood there unable to move as Dean toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks. He was yanking down his pants when he called out, "Cas? You gonna get in or am I gonna have to just throw water at you and hope for the best?"

"I'm going," he wheezed out, catching a glimpse of Dean's bare ass as he dropped his towel and pushed the shower curtain aside. He stuck his head directly under the spray, drowning out everything, sputtering when he felt Dean press against him.

"Switch places with me," Dean said, lips pressed against Castiel's ear and he shivered, sliding his body past Dean's.

"Yeah you did a crappy job," Dean laughed. "You missed most of your neck."

Castiel let his head fall forward as Dean ran a soapy washcloth across his skin, scrubbing behind his ears. He gave it a few passes, then murmured, "That's better."

Body tensing, Castiel’s hand flew to the shower wall to steady himself as Dean kissed the length of his neck, tongue flicking out to lick the shell of his ear. He kissed back down, sucking at the juncture of Castiel's neck and shoulder before nipping at it with his teeth. When he finally let go, he kissed the spot lightly.

"You missed part of your shoulders too," he said, scrubbing at them lightly. He worked in silence, moving the washcloth lower on Castiel's back until he eventually abandoned it altogether. Slick soapy hands roamed over his ass, sliding around his waist to then wrap around his cock.

Castiel exhaled harshly, looking down to watch Dean's hand slip along his shaft and he bit down on his lip. He could feel Dean push against him, the hard line of his erection pressed into the small of his back. It was a heady thing, knowing he could evoke such a response from Dean and it made him feel bold. He arched his neck back, head twisting in Dean's direction.

"Kiss me," Castiel pleaded, voice ragged. Dean leaned in, eating at his mouth slowly, tongue moving against Castiel's in long, lazy strokes, matching the rhythm of his hand. He pulled back after a few moments.

"Water's getting cold. Rinse off and we'll continue this." He ducked under the spray for a moment and was gone.

Castiel rinsed quickly and shut off the water, shivering as he snatched his towel off the floor and hurried into the bedroom, only to find it empty.

"Dean?"

"Out here," Dean called out.

"Hooooly..." Castiel choked out as he stepped into the living room. Dean was stretched out on the couch, one leg bent at the knee, the other foot flat on the floor. One hand was pillowed behind his head, the other wrapped around his dick, moving in slow strokes.

"C'mere." Dean raised up, slouching back against the couch, legs slightly spread. Castiel made his way over, hands braced on Dean's shoulders as he straddled his lap. "Read my mind," Dean smiled up at him. "Right where I wanted you. Sit back just a bit. There you go."

Dean slid his hands around Castiel's waist to his lower back, holding him firmly in place. "I've got you," Dean told him. "Stroke your cock for me."

One hand still braced on Dean’s shoulder, Castiel slipped a hand between them, teasing himself, and Dean watched, mouth slightly parted, tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. With each stroke his knuckles brushed along Dean’s length and he felt fingers dig into his hips. Castiel looked down between them, the sight of Dean’s cock hard and flushed, the head slick with precome causing his hips to jerk.

“Touch me, Cas,” Dean pleaded, hands flexing around Castiel’s hips. “I won’t let you fall.”

_‘I don’t think you can stop it,’_ Castiel thought as he pressed their shafts together with both hands, stroking upward. He ran his palms across the tips until they were slippery with fluids and he slid his hands down about half way. With Dean holding him steady, Castiel lifted his hips up, fucking up into his fist, cock sliding wetly along Dean’s.

“God, Cas,” Dean breathed out as his head fell back against the couch for a brief moment before lifting back up to watch Castiel move.

Castiel felt Dean pull at his hips, hands urging him to move faster, and he could hear Dean’s breathy whispers of “fuck you feel amazing”, “yeah there you go babe, right there”, and “god Cas I’m getting close.” And he could feel Dean’s thighs tensing beneath him, see his stomach muscles bunch up as Castiel’s hands pushed them closer and closer over the edge, finally falling over at almost the same time, Castiel first with Dean following quickly after, come painting across Dean’s chest in messy splatters.

Shuddering from aftershocks, Castiel moved willingly when Dean pulled him to his chest, fingers trailing along Castiel’s spine. “You ok?” he whispered.

Castiel nodded, pressing a kiss against his neck. “Yeah, just...catching my breath.” He kissed Dean’s neck again and added. “So much for my two showers.”

Dean chuckled. “I should probably let you get cleaned up and get to bed, huh?”

He didn’t want to move. Castiel wanted to stay right here as long as he could, Dean’s body warm and soft beneath him. “You can stay. If you want,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel replied, smiling against Dean’s neck when he felt one of Dean’s hands pat him on the butt.

“Go get cleaned up. I need to go lock up my house and I’ll be back.”


End file.
